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A CLUSTER OF 
BUCKEYES 

By 

ANDREW CARLISLE CARSON 



DENVER 

THE SMITH-BROOKS CO., Publishers 

1908 



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COPYRIGHT, I9O6 
BY 

Andrew Carlisle Carson. 



TO MY FRIENDS. 



A TOAST TO DENVER. 



We of Colorado have had our lots cast in pleasant 
places. Where else in all the world can be found 
such inspiration for men and women of genius in art, 
science, music, literature, the drama — everything — as 
there is here in this grandest and noblest of all 
Western states, or in dear, delightful Denver: Den- 
ver the unmatched and unmatchable, Nonpareil of 
Cities, whose people outrank the world in education, 
cultivation, refinement — all those qualities and graces 
that have reached their culmination as the harvest 
of the centuries: Denver of the gilded days and silver 
nights, whose ozone is purest and sweetest, whose 
mountains are sublimest, whose future stretches un- 
dimmed beyond the range of human ken: Denver, 
robed in the glorious purple of her morning, en- 
throned on the pinnacle of the continent, guarded by 
the eternal Titans whose hoary heads high uplift the 
dome of cloudland? — From an address delivered before 
the Denver Woma7fs Press Club. February 20, 1908. 







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PREFACE. 



The inspiration for this friendship edition of "A 
Cluster of Buckeyes" came with the Colorado-Ohio 
Governors' banquet. 

The twelve poems were written in different years 
and in different places. The lines of "Che-le-co-the" 
came into my mind a little while before my Mother 
was translated, as I lay dreaming amid the flowers 
and birdsong on the grassy crest of the noble plateau 
— named Carlisle Place in honor of my Mother's fam- 
ily, who owned it, — gazing at the embowered city 
spread below; at the beautiful Scioto Valley, with its 
soft-flowing, encircling rivers, that, beyond their con- 
fluence, wind away like a silver thread, until lost in 
the blue haze of the distant hills. "Buckeyeland" was 
written in 1888, in honor of the Ohio Centennial. It 
was set to music by Professor E. S. Mattoon. "Where 
the WhippooTwill is Calling" preceded it by two years, 
after a camp on the Mohican, and I composed the 
music in Denver in 1907. 

The Colorado'-Ohio Governors' banquet was. I be- 
lieve, the most brilliant event of its kind ever given 
in Colorado by the native sons of other states. 1 
quote from a published account: 

"The banquet of Ohioans was given in honor of 
Governor Buchtel and former Governor Myron T. 
Herrick of Ohio, who is in Colorado in the interests 
of the $23,000,000 pro'ject to erect immense electric 
plants near Glenwood Springs. 



12 PREFACE. 



"Lieutenant-Governor E. R. Harper was the ideal 
toastmaster, eloquent, witty and overflowing witti 
enthusiasm, and the Ohio spirit was rampant through- 
out the evening. 

"About seventy native sons of Ohio were present. 

"The tables were beautifully adcrned with a pro- 
fusion of carnations, President McKinley's favorite 
flower, and ferns, and on the walls, artistically fes- 
tooned with the American colors, were portraits of 
General Denver and Governor Buchtel, the six Ohio 
presidents of the United States, William H. Harrison, 
Grant, Garfield, Hayes, Benjamin Harrison and Mc- 
Kinley, and Generals Sherman and Sheridan. 

"Eloquent and witty responses to toasts were made 
by Governor Buchtel, former Governor Herrick, Chief 
Justice R. W. Steele, A. C. Carson, former Governor 
Jesse F. McDonald, Congressman Warren A. Haggott, 
former Lieutenant-Go-vernor Jared L. Brush, State 
Printer W. A. Piatt and James Barton Adams, who 
read an original poem on the 'Buckeye Tree.' 

"A. C. Carson, chairman of the general committee 
of arrangements, read a historical paper on 'What 
Has Ohio Done for Colorado?' enumerating an almost 
endless list of distinguished men and notable deeds, 
concluding with an original poetic apostrophe to 
'Buckeyeland,' in which is interwoven in the verse 
the names of Grant, Sherman, Sheridan and twenty- 
one other Ohio- generals distinguished in the War of 
the Rebellion. At the conclusion, all of the banquet- 
ers sprang to their feet, shouting and waving hand- 
kerchiefs and flags, in a glorious ovation to their na- 
tive state. 



PREFACE. 13 



"The general committee of arrangements included 
Jesse F. McDonald, Paul J. Sours, H. M. Oraho'od, 
Ralph W. Smith, George C. Manly, F. M. Downer, 
James Barton Adams, E. R. Harper, Earl M. Cran- 
ston, H. W. Hannum, George S. Van Law, C. M. Day, 
A. C. Carson and Frank I. Carruthers. 

"Those present were: Former Governor Jesse F. 
McDonald, Lieutenant-Governor E. R. Harper, former 
Lieutenant-GovernoT Jared L. Brush, Congressman 
Warren A. Haggott, Congressman Herschel M. Hogg, 
Chief Justice R. W. Steele, Associate Justice John M. 
Maxwell, Postmaster Paul J. Sours, Director F. M. 
Downer, U. S. mint; Assistant Postmaster H. W. 
Hannum, President C. M. Day, of the Denver Conven- 
tion League; General H. M. Orahood, State Printer 
W. A, Piatt, Senators A. V. Bohn, E. M. De La Vergne, 
J. J. Harris, William Robertson, T. R. Wood; Repre- 
sentatives W. O. Dray, T. C. Garden, J. R. Hurd, John 
A. Lehrritter, Henry C. Watson, James Diltz, Tully 
Scott; R. H. Ashworth, city engineer, Colorado 
Springs; Professor Frank H. H. Roberts, Denver Uni- 
versity; James Barton Adams, the poet; C. K. Berlin, 
M. D.; Ellsworth Bethel, Dr. N. G. Burnham, F. D. 
Bostwick, J. D. Baldwin, Dr. F. Y. Herbert, C. S. 
Card, A. C. Carson, W. T. Chambers, Ralph Daniels, 
W. G. Dietz, J. B. Durbin, F. W. Feldwisch, Jacob 
Fillius, George T. Hull, W. G. Chamberlain, Jr., Dr. 
W. H. Hall, W. D. Hoover, Charles Kibler, David S. 
Lehman, George Manly, R. H. McMann, W. E. Ped- 
rick, W. S. Sullivan, Fred C. Shaw, C. M. Schenck, 
H. C. Stuchfield, C. E. Thompson, Dr. J. T. Williams, 



14 PREFACE. 



George S. Van Law, Stuart D. Walling, W. S. Gin- 
nery, Charles M. Wood, James D. Hustert, Ralph Hart- 
zell, Edward F, Welles and F. F. Walpole." 

A. C. C. 
Denver, Colorado. June 11. 1908. 



CONTENTS. 

Page. 

Buckeyeland 21 

Where the Whippoorwill Is Calling 25 

M}^ Dog 28 

'Waj' Down Caroline 31 

De Debbil He Am a-Chasin" 33 

Agin' Mashin' 35 

The Hillican 38 

Did Y' Ever? 40 

Uncle Jed on the "Flyin' Masheen" 42 

An October Idji 45 

The Immortality of Song 47 

Che-le-co-the 49 



ILLUSTRATIONS. 

By the Author. 



Buckeye Leaves, Flower, Capsules and ^ 

Nuts Cover Design 

A Cluster of Buckeyes Frontispiece 

Colorado-Ohio Governors' Banquet 10' 

The Ohio Buckeye 24 ' 

Waiting for Me 11^ 

Honeylocust Blossoms 48^ 

Great Seal of the State of Ohio 51/ 

COLORADO WILD FLOWERS. 

Indian Paint Brush, Castilleia 23 

Evening Primrose, Oenothera 26 

Cone Flower, Lepachys coliimnaris 29 

Iris, or Fleur-de-lis 30 

Cactus, Opuntia Rafinesquii 32 '-^ 

Milkweed, Asclepias speciosa 34/ 

Thelesperma gracile 36' 

Yucca angustifolia 37 

Prickly Poppy, Argemone platyceras 39 

Seed Pod, Spanish Bayonet 41 

Wild sunflower, HeUanthus annuus 43 

Colorado Manroot 44 

WMld Clematis 46 

Bush Morning-glory, Ipomaa leptophylla 47 

Columbine, Aquilegia cwrulea (Colorado State 

Flower) 50 



A Cluster of Buckeyes 



BUCKEYELAND.* 



Hail to Ohio, our dear Buckeyeland! 
Gem of the Union, proud, peerless and grand; 
First of thy sisterhood, Queen of the West, 
Mother of Presidents, thy name is blest! 
Matchless thy jewels shine, dear Motherland; 
Countless their numbers are, lo! as the sand; 
These are thy gallant sons, noble and true: 
Hark! to their song as they pass in review — 

Chorus — "Buckeyeland, 

Buckeyeland, 
Buckeyeland! 
Fair is thy history, 
Bright is thy destiny. 

Strong is our love for thee. 
Dear Buckeyeland." 

Who is yon silent chief, sturdy and bold, 

Leading the column, a hero in mold? — 

Earth's greatest general — knowest his name? 

E'er where the sun doth shine, there shines his fame. 

Earth hath her heroes of fadeless renown; 

Fame hath her chaplets wove their brows to crown; 

Yet among chieftains chief, Grant stands alone: 

Sons of Ohio, his glory's thine own! 

Chorus — Buckeyeland. 



22 BUCKETELAND. 



Hark to the tread of the oncoming host! 
Soldiers and statesmen they, each with his boast, 
Each with his laurels won, in peace or war, 
Some with a plumed crest, some with a scar; 
Sherman and Sheridan, who ne'er forsook 
Their country in peril; McPherson, McCooks;:i; 
Rosecrans, Mitchell, stalwart and strong; 
McDowell, McClellan, all shouting the song. 

Chorus — Buckeyeland. 

Still comes the valiant throng, numbers untold; 
Buell and Gillmore and Custer, the Bold; 
Schenck, Hazen, Steedman — God bless the brave 
Who faced every danger their country to save! 
And who are these touching elbows to right? — 
Three hundred thousand who went out to fight, 
And built with their bodies a bulwark and wall- 
Battle-scarred heroes, thy sons are they all, 

Chorus — Buckeyeland. 

Onward, still on they come — will they ne'er cease? 
Lo! these are thy statesmen, distinguished in peace. 
Or, guiding the nation 'mid war's wild alarm, 
They breasted the tempest and outrode the storm: 
Soldier and president. Garfield and Hayes ;r 
Statesman and counsellor. Stanton and Chase; 
Or brave-hearted Wade, strong in hope's darkest 

days — 
All call thee "Mother," and .ioin in thy praise, 

Chorus — Buckeyeland. 



BUCKETELAND. 



23 



But can'st thou number the red autumn leaves? 
Or reckon the beams which the sun daily weaves' 
Then count Ohio's sons lustrous with fame, 
And loud to the millions each hero proclaim. 
Then hall to Ohio, our dear Buckeyeland! 
Gem of the Union, proud, peerless and grand! 
First of thy sisterhood. Queen of the West. 
Mother of Presidents, thy name is blest. 



Chort- 



Buckeyeland. 



*Read by the author at the Colorado-Ohio Governors' 
Banquet at the Hotel Savoy, Denver, Colorado, Tuesday 
evening, March 5, 1907. 

tPresidents William H. Harrison, Ben.iamin Harrison 
and William McKinley, and many brave generals, should 
have place in this illustrious galaxy, but it is impossible 
to include them all. 

tThe world's greatest family of fighters— two brothers 
and their fifteen sons, including seven generals, one 
colonel, one commander U. S. Navy, two chaplains, one 
surgeon, one major of cavalry, and only one private. 



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THE OHIO BUCKEYE. Pavia Ohioensis (Michaux). 
^sculus Glabra (Webster). 



WHERE THE WHIPPOORWILL IS CALLING. 

Waltz Song. 



We are camping here to-night by the old Mohican 
shore. 
We are camping 'neath the mellow orchard shade, 
While our hammocks 'mid the trees 
Swing in measure with the breeze, 
And the ruddy fire is gleaming on the glade. 
Tranquil is the hour when the summer sun is low; 
Happy is the close of leisure's day; 
Sweetly on the air 
Float the voices free from care, 
As we gaily swing the joyous hours away. 

Chorus. 
Swinging high and swinging low, 

Swinging 'mid the trees; 
Swinging fast and swinging slow. 

In measure with the breeze; 
Up and down and to and fro, 

All so free from care, 
Singing, singing as we go 

Floating thro' the air. 

We are boating here to-night on the old Mohican tide. 
We are boating on the fair and gentle stream. 
While the moon is shining bright, 
Pouring glory o'er the night. 
And the silver-crested wavelets brightly gleam. 



26 



WHERE THE WHIPPOORWILL IS CALLING. 



Blissful is the hour when the radiant moon is high, 
And the whippoorwill is calling on the shore; 
Idly glides the boat 
As we hear its plaintive note. 
And we'd fain the hour might linger evermore. 

Chorus. 
Rocking, rocking as we go, 

Rocking in the boat; 
Rocking, rocking fast and slow, 

As we idly float; 
Up and down and to and fro. 

Floating in the light, 
Singing, singing as we go 

Drifting thro" the night. 





WAITING FOR ME. 



MY DOG. 



I stood by a wall of cold gray stone, 
Riveted fast by a piteous moan, 
That from a gateway, barred and low, 
Stabbed my heart as it floated through. 
"It is only a dog," the keeper said. 
As he drove away with a load of dead; 
"Only a dog condemned to die, 
"And he'll never know the reason why." 

I peered thro' the bars into two big eyes, 
Lifted to mine so soulful and wise 
That I caught him up and bore him away, 
As I paid for his life on his judgment day. 
It was "but a dog," that's what they say. 
And perhaps e'en you may think that way; 
But the staunchest friend I've ever known 
Was the one I found in that house of stone. 

I have known what 'tis to find men untrue; 
I have known friends to change for a dollar or two; 
To deceive and betray, to wound and defraud, 
False to their brothers, their country, their God: 
But in all the brief years of my quadruped friend, 
Down to the dusk of his beautiful end, 
Meeting the trials of life by my side. 
He was true as the stars, and true till he died. 
* * * * 



MT DOG. 



29 



And when I shall reach the Lethean shore, 

And Charon is waiting to ferry me o'er; 

When I've crossed the dark tide of the fathomless sea, 

I am sure I'll find him there waiting for me! 



[The author desires to acknowledge that these lines 
were inspired by Senator Vest's speech on the dog, and 
a newspaper poem published some years ago.] 




'WAY DOWN CAROLINE. 

'Way down Souf in Caroline, 
Dat's whar dey mix de sunshine 

Wif de "moonshine;" 
Dat's wot makes yo' feel so fine, 
Dat's wot makes de black face shine, 

'Way down Caroline. 

Down on sof side cotton bale, 
Dar's whar dey drinks de sunshine 

Wif de "moonshine:" 
Pickaninny in shirt-tail 
Sing jes' like de martingale, 

'Way down Caroline. 

Down on de sof side cotton bale, 
Dar's whar dey drinks de sunshine 

Wif de "moonshine." 
"Moonshine" am dat hot ole stuff — 
Oh, ma Lawdy! nebber did get 'nuff, 

'Way down Caroline. 

Down on sof side cotton bale. 
Soak yo' hide wif sunshine an' 

Wif "moonshine:" 
Fat ole 'possum a-hangin' by he's tail 

(Oh, ma Lawd!) — 
Banjo, cum doion off'n dat nail! — 

'Way down Caroline. 



DE DEBBIL HE AM A-CHASIN' 

Ma soul be up an' a-flyin' 

Befo' de day hab a-cum, 
I's a-gwine right up into Heaben 

Befo' I see dat sun. 
De white folks and de cullud 

Am a-fiockin' troo de a'r, 
De Die ark am all a-loaded — 

Hallelujah! I'll be dar. 

Chorus. 
Oh, let dat ole ho'n keep on a-tootin' 

Let dem a-dead-a-bones fly; 
Oh, set dem a-heavenly ma-bells all 
a-ringin', 
Dar is music in de sky. 
Hark! dem bells! 
Hark! dem bells! 
Be-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-ells (EchD). 
Bells, bells, bells! 

I hyar dat ole ho'n a-tootin' 

Ez ef 'twould sholy bust; 
Dem dead bones dey cum a-scootin' 

To see who'll git dar fust: 
De Debbil he am a-chasin' 

To cotch dat hindernmost — 
Yo' nebber seed sich a-racin' 

To 'scape dat fiery roast. 
Chorus. 



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AGIN MASHIN'. 



[In the Ohio Valley vernacular.] 
It's a homespun old-like story uv the spider an' th' 

fly, 

But It alius seems so flttin' jes w'en winter hez 

passed by — 
W'en th' frozen days skedaddle with the ice an' snow 

an' rime, 
An' th' yaller sun is smilin' at th' reserection time. 

With th' spooney days o' spring time, w'en th' fever's 

in th' veins, 
Sassy Love he cums a-perchin' o' th' top o' giddy 

brains; 
An' he makes 'em all delir'us-like, an' he he'ts up 

ev'ry part, 
W'en he pours his red-hot lava in th' blood that feeds 
th' hart. 

Them's th' days, ez I hev noticed, ez I pass't along 

th' street, 
W'en them city chaps an' loafers, dress't fer style an' 

lookin' neat, 
Cums like spiders in the sunshine, on th' corners 

hangin' 'roun', 
Weavin' webs fer purty wimmin — fer no good, ez I'll 

be boun'. 



36 AGIN MASHIN\ 



'Pears to me ez ef them fellers wot we send to make 

th' laws 
Or to legislate agin sich mashin', while they're on the 

mashin' cause. 
Wimmin's wimmin — allers will be caught like flies; 
But we'd orto mash them spiders — jes' ter kinder 

equalize! 
[Published originally in the New York World.] 



X 



V. 



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THE "HILLICAN. 



I come from Waller P. O., onst known as Massey- 
ville, 

Down to'ards ole Pike kyounty, beyant the Lunbeck 
mill: 

Thet's in Hooppole township an' near to Pawpaw- 
ridge, 

Whar they list ter get th' timber ter build most ev'ry 
bridge. 

Waller's in a holler, sev'n mile from Chilly-ma-clink,* 
Whar th' Nor'west did its tradin' an' th' State House 

wuz, I think; 
Ez to thet, I disremember, fer I lived out on Pee-pee, 
W'en my pap fust cum from Buckskin an' Raggedy 

ridge, yer see. 

Down among th' shoemake whar th' big blackberries 

grows, 
An' th' cat-tails, used fer bar'ls. ez ev'rybody knows; 
Whar th' hick'ry fit fer hooppoles kivers all th' hills 

aroun' : 
Thet's jest th' place I cum from — my ole stampin' 

groiin'. 

You kin call me Jay, Clay-eater, Hillican or Yap, 
But I'd ruther tromp the footsteps uv my ole long- 
legged pap, 



THE ''HILLICANr' 



Cuttin' jes' eniiff uv hooppoles, huntin', fishin', ez 1 

like, 
Than ter be th' biggest farmer thet lives along th' 

pike. 

*A sobriquet for Chillicothe. Ohio. The names used 
above are still in force in Ross county, the birthplace 
of the late L.ucy Webb Hayes and the resting-place of 
four Ohio Governors. The leaves of the cat's-tail. "typha 
hitifolio." are placed between the staves to make barrels 
walei-tisht. 

I First j)ublished in the Chicago .Journal.] 




DID Y' EVER?^ 



Did y' ever run barefoot in the good ole summertime, 
Wen th' sun wuz hangin' up above ez high ez he c'u'd 

climb, 
An' til' swet cum out a-drippin' from a million little 

doors, 
An' y' felt ez ef y'd melt all up an' run out at th' 

pores ? 

Did y' ever go fishin' down at th' sunfish hole 

An' yank the "chubs" and "rockies" with a little min- 
ner pole? 

Er lie a-dreamin" by the hour out on a big ole log; 

Then strip and dive in under it — jes' like an ole bull- 
frog? 

Did y' ever go in swimmin' an' float roun' on yer 

back, 
An' fergit ter put yer shirt on tell th' sun had tanned 

y' black? 
Did y' ever paddle in the dust an' pile it up in rows, 
Er feel how good it alius wuz ter sqush it twixt yer 

toes? 

Ef y' never run barefoot y' missed an awful site, 
An' ev'ry country boy'll swear I'm talkin' mighty 
right! 



*In memory of "The Farm," at Silvey Ford, near 
Chillicothe. Ohio. 



UNCLE JED ON THE "FLYIN' MASHEEN." 

I'll jes' sing ye a song uv th' days uv my youth, 

Fer I'm a "back number," they say; 
An' I think they hev hit it, an' onst told the truth; 

Oh, I'm a "back number," they say. 
Them new-fangled air-ships is so dizzy an' fas', 
My hair stan's on eend and my face is aghas'; 
Landlubber, clodhopper, I'll be flyin' at las', — 

An' I'm a "back number," they say. 

When I wuz a laddie th' ox-team w'd do 
Fer a common "back number" like me; 

Whoa, haivl an' Gee. Buck! an' I gadded 'em, too, 
Ole fogy, "back number." yer see. 

I hoed the pertaters an' plowed th' corn through; 

I harried an' furried, an' cradled wheat, too. 

I'm a pretty ole bird, but I'll see 'em right through, 
Tho' I'm a "back nunil)ei-." they say. 

My Martha I wedded w'en young. i)lumi) an' fair. 

Oh, I'm a "back number." they say; 
An' folks alius called us a good-lookin' pair, 

Tho' now we're "back numl)ers," they say. 
We lived on th' farm whar the meader lark sung. 
An' th' pii)i)ins turned gold on th" limbs whar they 

hung. 
An' th' cows bawled at sundown wen th' milk pails 
wuz brung: 

But now we're "back numbers." they say. 



UNCLE JED ON THE "FLTIN' MASHEEN.'' 



43 



An' ter think iiv me flyin' like a hawk on th' wing- 

Stiff-j'inted "back number" like me! 
Who'd ever believed sech an' outlandish thing 

Fer sech a "back number" ez me? 
It seems like presumin' fer men made uv clay 

Ter tackle a trip up to Heaven that way: 
But I'd better keep mum er th' rest'll all say, 

"Ole fogy, hack number is he!" 

I Published in the New York Sun.] 




AN OCTOBER IDYL.* 



1 was sitting by my window on a mild October night, 
Watching the protean shadows play in the moon's 

white light; 
The elm-tree measured the streetway and figured a 

stately pine; 
Tall and slender it lengthened 'till it met yon fence's 

line: 
Lying so still in the roadway, darkly outlined on the 

white, 
It looked like a poet's wild fancy, and woke to poetic 

flight: 

"Turning life's prcvblem, thinking, thinking. 
While the blue-set stars are winking 
And the world to rest is sinking, 
I sit alone — alone with the open tome 
Of the past, and the present roam 
To peer in the great beyond : 
A night that has never dawned." 

All alone I sat and pondered, 
And abroad my spirit wandered 

In fancy's flight. 
But hark! a sound like guns an hundred; 
The building quaked; the front door thundered; 
The door-bell rang; my verse was sundered; 
A laugh, a shout — no more I wondered: 

'Twas "Cabbage Night." 



*The first two stanzas were written in the house where 
I^ucy Webb Hayes was born. The poem was first pub- 
lished in The Mt. Vernon (O.) Republican. 






-d 




THE IMMORTALITY OF SONG. 

Oh, who can tell the worth of song — 

The swelling melody of glee! 
The trilling notes, now swift they throng; 
Now deepest pathos sweeps along; 

Now love; now praise: the echoes flee 
And dying replications cease. 

But no! they wing their endless flight 
Thro' outward space with slight decrease. 
Nor e'er shall Time accord them peace! 

Far less, within the mind, delight 

And sweet remembrance quickly fade. 
Unbound Eternity shall hear 
That harmony which kissed the tear, 
And crowned the cup of mortal cheer. 

And smoothed the path that sin has made! 
I First i)ub]ished in The Ross County (O.) Register.] 




CHE-LE-CO-THE.* 

Unrhymed Regret. 



O Town of the Plain, 'mid everlasting hills, 

The earl}' leaves bedeck thee, the locust bloom doth 

scent thee, 
And yet in all around me change I see. 
O town of childhood's thoughtless joy, 
O town of youthful dream and hope. 
Thy hills remain— but little more, in sooth. 
Reminders of the day I did delight in thee! 
On yonder verdant crest fair Phyllis dwelt 
In years long lost, when love was young: 
And on yon upland high, deep writ in monument of 

earth, 
My tribal name endures. 

And yo-nder far will Logan rear his sha.ggy head. 
And o'er the valley still his silent vigil keep 
When we are long forgot and numbered with the 

dead. 
O vale of fair Scioto's stream, 
In other years thy slopes and dells I trod 
Till all were mine; 

But now, tho' still art fair, thou art a dream. 
* * * * 

And so methinks I'll lie and close my eyes. 
And fancy all of life a dream ! 



*The old Indian name of the first capital of the North- 
west Territory, that, later, became the first capital of the 
State of Ohio. Founded in 1796— two years before the 
author's maternal grandparents settled there. 




GREAT SEAI> OF THE STATE OF OHIO. 

Mt, I.ogan in the Background, the Scioto Flowing- along 

its Base, and Poe's Wheat Field in the Foreground. 



3#t- 




015 906 164 4 



